these are the days of my life.




















Some days, okay let's be honest...most days, I wake up in the morning and feel like a bus hit me fifty times and left whatever mangled bits of me leftover on the bed. I gather my body parts ever so slowly like a seamstress gathers the hem of a skirt and make my way to the shower in hopes to shock my body awake. It works every time. Well, that and my kids banging on my glass shower door really gets my body moving. I am not exaggerating when I say that I take showers in under a minute. I'd do just about anything to get those kids to stop banging at 5:30-6am. You would too. I promise.

The days seem to melt together like one big pot of fondue, and when I step out to look at my life, I realize that just like fondue, my life is delicious. It is sticky and messy and fun and and exciting and delightful.

Today as I walked up the steps to Mya's school, I looked at my girls holding hands running towards the playground, and my body felt peace. The kind of peace it only wishes it felt at 5:30am, but that's another story entirely. I yelled for them to run back to me so I could snap a picture of their colorful outfits, and they came running full-speed at my legs. They nearly knocked me over. They posed...my girls are such posers these days...and ran off toward the playground. Elle and I sauntered over after she stopped to eat a few blades of grass, and we played on the swings until the bell nearly scared the pee right out of V. She hates the dang bell, and no matter how many times I tell her that the bell can't hurt her, it gets her all the same.

We were able to stay with Mya at school for 30 minutes because it was Family Friday where we read books to our little school-goers before hugging them goodbye. It is Genevieve's favorite Friday of every month (notice how close she sits next to Mya in the above picture). She eats up every minute, and you know what, Mya is so good to her on these special Fridays. She lets her tag along with her friends in line, she even helps her go potty with the "big girls" because moms are not allowed, she shares her spot on the carpet with her and she saves her a chair when we read books. My girls can be so good to each other. It makes all the hard, messy stuff worth it.

I just had to write this memory down because whenever I have a minute to look at my life from the outside in, I realize just how good it really is. (Now I'm off to grocery shop on the strict budget we've set for ourselves. Wish me luck!)

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"Be kind and considerate with your criticism... It's just as hard to write a bad book as it is to write a good book." Malcolm Cowley